Leandra Medine's Blog, page 673

That Braid Looks Great on You

You reminded me of Willie Nelson last night, Jared.

Willie Nelson or Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, actually — though the difference between them and you is that you wore your braid straight down the back of your spine. Like a plaited backbone.

Is your braid your backbone, Jared?

I think it’s mine.

Your braid gave me strength to outwardly dislike man buns; to stop feeling guilty about the fact that no matter how badly I wish I could find them sexy, I don’t. I simply cannot stop picturing them as miniature second heads.

Sometimes man buns look like man balls, to be quite honest. Sometimes women buns do too.

Mostly what’s annoying about a man bun is it says, “This is a hairdo that pretends to be nonchalant even though if I were truly nonchalant I probably wouldn’t have Youtube’d a bun tutorial, which I did because unlike women who’ve been bunning since elementary school volley ball practice, I never had to master the casual hair loop until now.”

At least acknowledge that buns are hard. That’s what we do when we use a curling iron.

A braid is deliberate, though. There’s no hiding the fact that it’s an aesthetic choice. A braid says, “This took thought. This took dexterity and flexibility and concentration and at least three minutes.” A braid says, “I meant to do this. I also stretched beforehand.”

With all of my heart, Jared, I hope that your braid was woven with stylistic intent, and not because you fear that your hair might someday overshadow you. I know the media’s been focused on it (Lauren Conrad said she was jealous of it) but your hair could never replace your career — you’re so much more than your wig.

As with love, hair can hurt. Roots that have been trapped in a bun for too long cause migraines and scratching and pain. Our once-perfect relationship has recently felt like that man bun — achey, strained, like a tiny second head.

Don’t think I haven’t noticed. It began with the ombré.

But Willie Nelson once wrote a song called “Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground.” In it he sings of mending a broken wing. Dr. Quinn mended wings of the human variety, too. And as for you and your braid, Jared Leto? I think it can mend between us what the Internet essentially broke.

To make a braid, you section off three chunks of hair and then weave them in and out of each other, one at a time. One of those chunks is you. One of those chunks is me. One of those chunks is us.

I know things have been weird…this letter is weird. I guess all I really wanted to say is that the braid looks great on you, Jared. You looked nice last night.

How To: Fake It ‘Til You Make It

A universal truth about winter: the three A’s — Arid-Ass Air. So dry, in fact, that a nose bleed is more common than losing your phone in a cab.

The perk: Less oily hair and therefore, fewer reasons to wash it.

The cons: a) tresses that resemble all too acutely the stiff fibers of a broom and b) your inability to use hair-washing as an excuse to get out of burdensome obligations, like, for example, dinner with a cousin who still calls you by a childhood nickname that should have died when you turned six, mispronounces your husband’s name in spite of the frequency with which the two have met and continues to inquire about when you’re going to get a real job (and, fortuitously, when you’ll finally wash your hair).

There is, however, a solution for the times your obligations are more elective and you’d prefer not to look like a household appliance. It comes in a bottle that when sprayed, provides the kind of glow and shine you’d expect from only a pregnant woman or recent Golden Globe winner.

And because Man Repeller is unwittingly becoming a destination to ponder the achievement of hair styles indicative of different decades (last week tackled 60s hair and before that, we spoke Turtleneck Hair — the 90s?), let’s throw a nod to the 70s in here too.

Last week, we sent Charlotte, who has essentially only had to wash her hair twice during the course of her lifetime due to its perennial dryness, to Bumble and bumble’s Meat Packing District salon to test out the anterior’s Invisible Oil products. In doing so, a fake a set of 70s, Farrah Fawcett-esque bangs were curl-ironed into the front of her head and were accompanied by the kind of shimmering waves that make sunsets possible (and have heretofore made fringe worth wearing, turtlenecks worth hoarding).

Here’s what the process looked like:

Step 1: Wash hair with Hairdresser’s Invisible Oil shampoo & conditioner.

Step 2: Add Hairdresser’s Invisible Oil primer on towel dried hair.

Step 3: Add 2 pumps of — you guessed it — Hairdresser’s Invisible Oil while simultaneously running fingers through hair and blow drying it until it’s halfway dry. Pro tip: your hair is considered “halfway dry” if, were you to be very late for a date, you’d leave it as is knowing that it would probably finishing drying by the time you arrived at whatever awkward wine bar you guys planned to meet at, but, if you had all the time in the world and your apartment’s heater was broken, you’d spend another 10 minutes blasting hot air at your head.

Step 4: Add a squirt of Thickening spray for  hold.

Step 5: More hair drying but this time, dry it entirely — you know, really drive it home; get nice and cozy up in there. Then, brush it with some Spray de Mode before curling.

Step 6: Curl, but be sure to wrap hair around the barrel away from your face as opposed to curling it inwards.

Step 6 1/2: You look like Honey Boo Boo! Bask in this for a moment. Send a Snapchat for sure.

Final step: Brush out curls (Honey Bye Bye!) and then, for maximum shine, add 2 more pumps of Invisible Oil over waves. Comb through with your fingers for that “Oh this old hair?,” not-too-perfect look.

A really fun thing to do is try and repeat this later on an actual broom. It is impossible, which should remind you that no matter how badly the three A’s attack your head this winter, with the right tools, you will always have more in common with Farrah Fawcett than a household appliance. Groovy.

In partnership with Bumble and bumble, products also available at Sephora. Hair by Mischa Gobie at Bumble and bumble salon. 

Girls, Season 4; Episode 1

On Mon, Jan 12, 2015 at 9:34 AM, Leandra Medine wrote:

Important talking points to canvass re: last night’s Season 4 premiere of Girls in no particularly reasonable order:

1. The friendship between Marni and Hannah which at times can seem so manufactured and narcissistic, like it’s actually just two monologues being deposited in one bank account, but otherwise can also feel as real and authentic as the kind of romance that exists only between girls and their chosen sisters.

1a. Marni as a mistress which at once makes no and so much sense. Not not acknowledging that’s she’s the common denominator in clauses 1 and 1a.

2. Hannah and Adam and when their relationship will reach a state of détente.

3. Natasha Lyonne

4. Elijah fortuitously becoming the comfort zone of the characters on the show — see: his heroic rush to the aid of a heart broken, gilded-feather-in-hair-wearing Marni on Spring Street, minute 21.

What am I leaving off here?

On Mon, Jan 12, 2015 at 9:57 AM, Mattie Kahn wrote:

Okay, I know you said no particular order, but I have to make a beeline for numero uno because even the version of this relationship that you characterize as yes, okay, fine, so very narcissistic is so authentic to the real female friendship that I know. One of my best friends and I have actually paused mid-conversation more than once to note that while we are both speaking in intervals, ostensibly having a conversation, we are in fact really just indulging our own thoughts. Each of us talks about the things that matter to her and sort of fails to address those issues that are plaguing the other. But here’s the thing: I think it’s great. Sometimes all you need from a friend — particularly from a great friend — is reciprocity. You don’t need her to solve the disaster that is your life or your boyfriend or your roommate. You don’t go to her for that. Or, I don’t. I call my friends or I track them down and force them to hang out with me (never at jazz brunches, never) so that I can feel my counterweight in the world. Sometimes I don’t need them to respond to what I’m saying. I just need them to be there, balancing me and my crazy out with their equal and opposite insanity. Sometimes that feels like the best and most privileged friendship in the world.

On the subject of Marnie, because Wikipedia says “Marnie,” can we discuss the fact that she is currently having the most graphic sex on the show? And that she is wearing a gray tank top while it happens? That feels more egregious to me than the gilded feather.

Finally, for now, speaking of hair accessories: All the Girls have them in this episode. Hannah, Shosh, and Jessa all sport barrettes. Marnie goes rogue and wears that Pocahontas-meets-Vanessa-Hudgens contraption. I hope her mom has a matching version, but maybe in silver? With turquoise beads?

P.S. Marnie’s mom would have a selfie stick. Let’s just get that out of the way. But she would call it a wand, and Shosh would pretend to hate it, but she would want her own and use it for something strange.

P.P.S. To me, Beadie is the fucked-up Ina Garten. I don’t know what else to say.

And one more thing, re: the portrayal of female friendship. That scene in the bathroom with Jessa and Hannah and her “weird, voodoo shit” is exactly why men are afraid of women who pee together. It’s scary and passive aggressive and powerful in there. It’s true.

On Mon, Jan 12, 2015 at 11:04 AM, Leandra Medine wrote:

That sex! I know! Is it even sex? So explicit. Here’s my thing though: is such a crass scene necessary? Does it do anything profound to the growth of the narrative? Is my asking that question a nod in the direction of last season’s overwhelming argument against Lena Dunham’s nudity? Ultimately, I found her body a necessary entity to galvanize — it was indicative of the raw nakedness with which the cast approached their 20s, right? Through the bullshit and the lies and all those bells and whistles that are constantly placed under scrutiny was a very honest, very disturbing and realistic experience in motion.

What does Marnie’s ass being eaten out indicate for the big picture, though?

On Mon, Jan 12, 2015 at 11:35 AM, Mattie Kahn wrote:

I think you’re right. There is something more indulgent about witnessing Marnie’s nudity on screen than there ever has been where Hannah’s is concerned. My memory might be failing me, but I think I remember that Marnie once had sex in a bra and a skirt on the show and that felt right to me somehow–the same way it did that Hannah would eat a cupcake in her bathtub.

I hate to think that the fact that Allison Williams is so obviously beautiful means she can’t be portrayed naked on screen in a way that doesn’t feel graceless. Then again: Maybe there is no way to depict someone having her ass motor-boated that isn’t gratuitous. What do I know.

This makes me think, tangentially, of the on-stage exchange that goes down between Marnie and Desi. She says to him, “People aren’t even paying attention. They’re not even listening.” My first instinct is to contend that Girls has never had a problem demanding attention. From the very beginning, it’s had a rapid and critical and incisive audience. And yet I sometimes suspect that there are about a thousand levels of subtly and nuance to the show that I miss and probably a million that are lost on the people who remain devoted to their project of turning Lena Dunham into a warped, millennial monster.

I never know how much to read into what and how to know what’s ironic. I never know whether I’m on the inside of the joke or the object of it. I guess what I mean is that the only thing worse than being a Marnie would be being one of the Lisas [friends of Elijah’s ex boyfriend]. They are even more superficial than our foursome, and I would hate to be the object of Elijah’s scorn in the way that they are.

There was one moment I explicitly waited for in this episode. I wanted to witness Hannah’s great big goodbye to New York. I’ve left New York before — for a year and for a semester and for several months at a time, and I’m surprised Hannah wasn’t more reflective. I know rigorous analysis is asking a lot of our girl, Horvath, but still: New York is a lead character on this show. And while Hannah notices and marks her farewells to every important person in her life, she disregards the city that sustains and tortures and captivates them. Jessa, in a usual moment of cruelty, tells Hannah she’s “pussying out” on the metropolis. I don’t know if that’s true, but I do know that I’ve said goodbye to New York every time I’ve left — even if only in a small way. I couldn’t go unless I did. It felt wrong to me that Hannah didn’t.

On Mon, Jan 12, 2015 at 12:46 PM, Leandra Medine wrote:

I think one of the reasons I adore David Sedaris as an author is because when he was writing about his mother’s cancer and subsequent death, he never turned it into a grand testament to loss. It never became an overly earnest or insensitively comedic production. It just was. It was acknowledged matter-of-factly and to me, perfectly emblematized the experience of loss. Because you go through it and it hurts and it’s not easy and its certainly not fun but to tackle the cumbersome task of writing about it in a honest way seems redundant and runs the high risk of being lethally misinterpreted. It can be an endeavor as fruitless, and potentially harmful as teeth-brushing with simple syrup.

New York is so embedded in the DNA of the show that it would have been superfluous, or distracting, to try to distill the process of goodbye. I hear your point and appreciate it but that didn’t bother me.

Something that did seem kind of unique, though, was the way in which Hannah left Adam and how viscerally I reacted to that. I felt like my high school boyfriend was breaking up with me again, which then snowballed into severe guilt pangs because that reaction was so visceral that I even kind of felt like I was cheating on Abie but I digress. Oh! I digress and think that maybe Adam represents New York! I am now even more convicted about my theory of redundancy. But am also thinking that she kind of “pussied out” of saying goodbye to him. As did he to her. Again, though, it was raw and kind of uncomfortable and most acutely: realistic. Thoughts?

On Mon, Jan 12, 2015 at 1:20 PM, Mattie Kahn wrote:

I love the idea of Adam as a surrogate for New York, because he is her great love and especially because is there anything more so completely New York-y than the sentiment: “The plan is…there is no plan”? Not as far as I can tell.

As for their thwarted goodbye exchange, I agree: the fault is both of theirs. For all the human obsession with closure, I doubt they are the first to deny each other the opportunity to say goodbye. The point is: People! We’re complicated. And we undermine ourselves and our feelings whenever we can.

Separately, I think Shosh kind of owned her feelings this week. She attended the jazz brunch against her better judgment in the hopes that she would find Ray there. It seems like the Girls are always playing “house” a little bit, but Shosh is particularly guilty of aspiring to only the most obvious version of adulthood. The speech she delivers to Ray is nice, I suppose, but it makes her look even younger than she already is. As Hannah and Adam demonstrate, we don’t get to set other people free or absolve ourselves and let them go. They do that without us. I know I should relate most to Shosh. I am, after all, due to graduate (FINALLY! AT LAST!) in May, but I hope I accept my ignorance at least a measure more than she does. And the truth is she exhausts me.

…But probably not to the degree that Beadie’s daughter is going to exhaust Beadie in Connecticut. Natasha Lyonne is proof that if you say something enough times, it stops sounding like anything at all. For evidence, repeat the word “eyebrow” ten times. Meaningless, I’m telling you.

Two more things:

1. I got this whiff of Annie James and Hallie Parker (or, Lindsay Lohan circa The Parent Trap) when Hannah and Marnie hugged on top of Hannah’s overstuffed suitcase. It was the most sisterly moment that I’ve ever witnessed between them. And it made me nostalgic and happy. Are they a type of twins? It seems possible.

2. As someone who would never dare to, I admire that Hannah wears pants with a *real* zipper on the plane. That is an act of either pure delusion or the brand of adulthood I have yet to experience.

Okay, and fine. A third:

3. Do you even care about Ray anymore? I don’t know, but I hate his backpack.

On Mon, Jan 12, 2015 at 1:29 PM, Leandra Medine wrote:

I care about Ray so much. He is like a gin and tonic that seems kind of futile, like a mainstay that is there because it has been for so long but when probed maintains this divine ability to sneak up on you in the most sensational (though decidedly anarchist) manner. I am confident that as with previous seasons, he will resume status as no-longer-unsung hero in a pivotal moment of collective discovery. Also want to spend a second appreciating the episode’s dialogue, which was either particularly on point (fleek?) or just seemed that way as a result of the hiatus. Television hasn’t been able to trick me into thinking that my thoughts are as deep and evocative as their own since Gilmore Girls, which perfectly struck the same chord that Girls does in that its entirely digestible though uncompromisingly smart.

On Mon, Jan 12, 2015 at 1:32 PM, Mattie Kahn wrote:

I embarrassed to admit that I missed the Gilmore Girls moment. I’m glad to have caught up to my generation in time to witness this (pop?) cultural event. And this much I know: It’s making me (and probably a million other people) a more conscious writer in real life. And that’s the most consequential praise I can give a fictive product.

On Mon, Jan 12, 2015 at 1:32 PM, Leandra Medine wrote:

More complimentary than a comparison to even Gin and Tonic?

Style at The Golden Globes

Last night, Melissa McCarthy wore a sequined bow tie duly paired with a fishtail skirt. Emma Stone, in Lanvin, seemed to have followed in the foot steps of meme-first-named Watson, who last year chose a jumpsuit with a cascading fabric appendage.

Allison Williams wore a red mille-feuille.

Diane Kruger, historical champion of fashion on the red carpet, quietly emerged in Emilia Wickstead-sparkle. Julianne Moore chose feathers and sequins, which looked phenomenal on her figure while Naomi Watts and Leslie Mann cloaked their small frames in strapless citruses. And thus, the question remains: is red carpet fashion actually fashion? For the most part, the answer has been a resounding: eh.

But then you take someone like Jemima Kirke, who wore a cropped lamé caftan that exposed her midriff from the front but extended well beyond the length of her white gown skirt from behind, or Irene Neuwirth with her poplin grommets, and your faith in the red carpet’s ability to exude style is re-established. You forage through hashtag-replete Instagram photos, fielding selfies from lesser known Golden Globe attendees and find the precise gumption with which you potentially hoped outfits would be worn.

This then presents a theory that debunks the initial question because there is fashion on the red carpet — it’s just not photographed and published with the same, maniacal rigor. What we’re left with at this point is another question — are the stylists cultivating or killing style on the red carpet? Of course, it’s not really their fault. It becomes a question of what the client wants, which more often than not follows the rules of aesthetic flattery as opposed to those of shock value (worth wondering, too, is whether there is any more value tethered to shock).

If you agree, the assumption is that fashion and flattery don’t go hand in hand — that to evince the spirit of style means to forgo the tenets of “complimenting shapes,” which, of course, is the precise reason I wear bad pants and have cited a preference to be called a bad dresser if the only other option is a “passive dresser.” This also just seems far too unilateral an opinion to blanket the concept of red carpet fashion so let’s recap, recoup and investigate in tandem.

Recap/recoup: Is red carpet fashion actually fashion? –> Yes and no. But then, are stylists affecting, whether positively or negatively, what happens on the red carpet? –> To a certain extent, yes, but ultimately, the client makes the thematic call. –> Does that mean the rift between fashion and flattery is growing evermore? Were they ever united?

Investigate: Do they even have to be united?

The Schlep

She’s fascinating, isn’t she? The woman who arrives on time with her breath intact, hair in place and skirt zipped on properly. In the winter months she hangs her coat in the same fluid motion that she removes her gloves — a smart leather pair which are then folded neatly and tucked into her pocketbook that she hooks to her chair as she sits. “I don’t need a menu,” she says through a smile. She already knows what she wants.

Twenty minutes later you come barreling in, late for a thousand different reasons but the easiest one to offer at the moment is, “Subway.” Your hair is staticky from the hat you’ve just removed in wild pursuit of escaping the rising heat that your body is now generating; the sweat care of your having run one block with a scarf wrapped so many times around your face it’s a wonder you didn’t pass out or choke. Skirt’s swiveled around. You dislocate a shoulder while trying to take your coat off and you’ve just sat down. Not before accidentally punching a stranger in the upper thigh, though. Now you’ve dropped a fork while unrolling your napkin and no, you have not yet looked at the menu. Yes you need one.

You have about 100 shopping bags at your feet because today seemed like a good day to clear out your desk. There’s also a gym bag, a tote bag (for your change of shoes, which you are now — mid-restaurant — bending over and changing into) plus your clutch, which is about two seconds away from falling off of the table that it’s precariously perched upon, and though no one’s ever outright expressed it, you’re pretty sure the whole clutch-on-table thing is considered rude.

This is routine for a schlepper: we who schlep where others simply commute. But in a city where driving is the exception, cabbing is a luxury and walking is the rule, carrying your crap is an urbanite’s rite of passage. To all those who enjoy the sport of backpacking — come visit Manhattan.

The thing about schlepping is that it’s not so much about frustrating logistics or attempting to sooth the lingering notion (and often, reality) that you’ve forgotten something important. It’s more of a consistent reminder that you are not That Woman. The one who arrives on time with her breath intact and all ten nails buffed and her skirt facing forward as it was designed. It’s a nagging shoulder tap, an “Excuse me, ma’am, your life is in no way together” from some voice in your head that means well but does nothing to help. This woman across from you, the non-schlepper, she’s at once your inspiration and your cause for distress. Surely she knows how to do her taxes, has health insurance under control and never once has run out of clean socks.

How did she figure it out? When did she get so good at growing up?

After you share your drinks and promise to do this again some time, you bid your adieus and go your separate ways — she in her heels and her car and you with your baggage and two feet, try remember that whether you glide or shlep doesn’t really matter. What’s important is that you’re on your way.

New York Closets: Kerry Pieri

Certain trends are more difficult to digest, or more profoundly, practice than others. Bangs are one. Socks with sandals are another. Both are a walk in the park that is street fashion for Kerry Pieri, the Digital Fashion/Features Director at HarpersBazaar.com. Through style, she also answers critical questions; e.g. can I wear a poplin dress this winter? Yes. And if there’s ever been a human billboard for the modern turtleneck as an absolute staple, it’s Pieri. Likewise, who doesn’t love a woman who takes a majority of her “selfies” in front of an unassuming ukulele and one very beautiful arrangement of what she dubs “the alcohol”? With that, allow Kerry Pieri’s wardrobe to ease you into the week.

May you exit this Monday with a game plan for tomorrow.

Monday

These are a few of my favorite things: camel coat, flares and a white turtleneck. I wore this to market appointments and then the office.

Joseph coat, Wolford turtleneck bodysuit, Gucci bag, McGuire jeans

Tuesday

Pencil skirts and turtleneck sweaters are one of my go-to cold weather combos. Luckily, this week wasn’t too cold so I skipped the tights, which don’t really work with chambray, anyway. Score one for the sample sale find that I thought I couldn’t wear until the spring.

Aritzia sweater, Altuzarra skirt, Stella McCartney boots, Sam jacket

Wednesday

Again with the no tights — I appreciate an unseasonably warm December. I should note that later in the day the temperature plummeted and I had to borrow a pair from the closet: thank you Amanda Weiner, senior accessories editor of Harper’s BAZAAR for looking out. Also, I could wear this turtleneck every day.

Joa dress, Wolford turtleneck, Alaïa boots, CH Carolina Herrera bag

Thursday

And on Wednesdays we wear leather turtlenecks. I like boyfriend jeans that you can wear unrolled; I don’t like when the shape is pre-pegged. This Citizens of Humanity pair are the ideal and feel like pajamas. I’m looking a little sleepy here because it was the company holiday party the night before and BAZAAR.com girls can get down.

Altuzarra turtleneck, Citizens of Humanity jeans, Alaïa boots, Saint Laurent bag

Friday

This is my Night out on the Town look, or in reality, dinner with my husband. This Zara crop top is one of those random purchases that became one of the most-worn items in my closet. Tibi is a not-very-well-kept editor secret (spread the word!) and this skirt is one reason why. I was told by Elle.com editor Ruthie Friedlander that this Balenciaga jacket looks very professional and not so me, but I think I made it me.

Balenciaga jacket, Tibi skirt, Robert Clergerie shoes, Zara top

Saturday

I’d consider this my uniform if I had to pick a uniform. I was going for a meta-pic here, and also, apparently I like the booze.

Vince jacket, J. Brand leggings, Alaïa boots, Chance top

Sunday

I’m a big fan of poplin and I am basically collecting white poplin dresses. I put this one over skinny jeans to make it December-appropriate.

Theory dress, Gucci belt, Gucci bag, Westward Leaning sunglasses, Michael Kors shoes

Follow Kerry Pieri on Instagram here: @kerrybazaar, and visit HarpersBazaar.com here. Then, if you’re still procrastinating and need more outfit inspiration, see all of the previous New York Closets here.

Pioneers of the Backslash Movement

Leave it to millennials to assume we did something first. Here we are, going on about how we’re the backslash-career generation as prompted by Kevin Gnapoor: math enthusiast/badass m.c., when actually, it’s fashion models who are the real pioneers of the job remix.

They begin as themselves, which is a career in and of itself. Then historically, there’s always been a personal and creative element added, such as “deejay” (see Kevin G), or actor (see Rajiv Surendra who played Kevin G) or photographer (see everyone with a smartphone). From there, these models/actresses/photographers go on to include such professions to their resumes as:

Astronaut

Boxer

Sailor

Pilot

Rockstar

Professor

Armless scientist

Spy

Lion Tamer

Waitress

Etc., an abbreviation which has never proved more useful than it does now because for a model, the list really does go on. These women accrue upwards of a hundred careers over the course of their professional lives; and let us not forget that for every magazine spread we see, there are a million stock photo shoots they do on the side in order to make expensive-ass New York city rent:

“Hi I’m Jan and I’m a Model/Robot/Corn Enthusiast/able to afford my apartment on the reg.”

In fact, when considering where our determination and hard work ethic comes from, we should probably stop giving credit to our parents and professors and mentors and instead give a shout out where it’s really due: to the multi-vocational women whose enterprising gumption has been passed down to us. In fact, I myself probably wouldn’t be the writer/telephone operator/1980s IT person that I am today if it weren’t for this woman:

We must respect the past and realize that if it weren’t for models and the insouciant way in which they assume enumerable identities, we’d be one man shows no one paid to see.

Here’s some mood music to accompany your slideshow. Cheers.

Claps to Charlotte Hundo-Job Fassler for being the Slideshow Mafia.

Truer Words Have Never Been Spoke–er, Tweeted

“I just now saw this” is how our generation pronounces “I didn’t want to go.”

— David Blue (@DavidBlue) January 8, 2015

Pre-Fall 2015, A Field Guide

In-between collection seasons (as in, those that fall between the traditional runway seasons of Fall and Spring) can feel cumbersome because like a gin and tonic, they sneak up while you’re focused on the floral zing — a reprieve from the lingo that pervades an onlooker’s mental space and a veteran’s physical time. Leave enough time for a substantial accrual, though, and boom: you’re wasted. Completely covered in the chartreuse-manufactured, albeit highly stimulatory smog that is a month’s worth of slideshows. And with profound inebriation always comes one thing: a hangover. If the baked potato doesn’t work (which I reckon it won’t because this hangover is a metaphor), a field guide to navigating Pre-Fall should do the trick.

So, if you loved The Matrix but hate Keanu Reeves, consider the black leather tunic and pants of Maiyet as paired with a white t-shirt.

If you’re thinking about culottes but haven’t made the plunge yet, let Rachel Comey’s fourth foray into establishing herself as queen of the silhouette help you put your pedal to the metal and let your fupa fly.

If you need something to talk about with your visiting French pen pal, do keep in mind the sharp return of a newly-directed Sonia Rykiel, addressing specifically the suede and shearling cape and frayed white jeans of a Francophilic Penny Lane’s modern conception.

If you’re going to work, hate your suit, but know you’ve got to put one on, cull inspiration from Thom Browne’s multi-layered adaptations and declare with gusto: I wear the cropped pants!

If your uncle keeps telling you, “You’ve just got to shake your tail feather,” redirect him to Thakoon’s collection (then tell him to STFU while you stare in bewilderment at its corresponding genius poplin tie neck).

If you’re into turtlenecks and have cited Susie Salmon as a style icon, rejoice in both those elements’ pervasiveness as interpreted by J.W. Anderson.

But if you’re still on a 90s kick and would rather kill yourself than give up your cropped rib knit, high five Calvin Klein, then strap a stuffed animal around your turtleneck hair.

Or, you know, don’t, because Rosetta Getty said corduroy.

If you’re a chef but bad with knives and find that you’ve ruined too many sweaters, buy them pre-slashed down the middle, like Derek Lam suggests.

If you’re not a sailor, or a champion of the illusive pussy bow, give Chloé a chance to convert (or is pervert?) you.

And, of course, if by no stretch of a dictionary’s imagination can you be deemed a sparkling member of Amish society despite your propensity for both covered ankles and wrists, laud Creatures of The Wind and their sequined ankle skirt. They’re…the…Ant Farm!

Images via Style.com

What is Penn Badgley Doing Right Now: A Theory

On Monday night, Penn Badgley attended the premiere of Girls at The Museum of Natural History. Badgley was presumably there as a friend of Jemima Kirke — a conclusion which my deductive reasoning led me to believe after observing the pair exchange exactly three blinks. Their platonic zone was likely established that time Penn Badgley ate falafel with Kirke’s sister Domino while wearing denim knee shorts. It was nice to see him there.

It was also strange. He paced around his seat indolently prior to the screening, which I know because I was staring. Staring and wondering. Wondering what he was wondering.

I wrote down a dozen possibilities.

Here are some:

Should I have held out?

How does my chin look?

My hair is hot.

I’m in a band?

When’s the last time I updated my Wikipedia page?

Blake Lively

Also in attendance were such pillars of 90s youth-culture as Natasha Lyonne who, surprise!, appears in episode 1, and such Chuck Norris adversaries as one Mr. Jon Hamm who (spoiler alert!) did not appear in episode 1. Seated within the first two rows of the iMax theater was one man in a light gray suit and red folded beanie, who Mattie astutely characterized as being “dressed for the job he wants.”

Mr. Badgley, sporting a curly combover for which one could have mistaken him as Kate from Jon & Kate Plus 8 on a day her hair iron was not working, appeared dressed for the life he has. Indeed, in military green cotton slacks, a navy blue henley and a brown puffer coat, his look exuded a pointed sense of mute. Which, of course, prompted a sincere case of curiosity concerning what the almost-devastatingly attractive bygone John Tucker Must Die supporting actor is doing.

Google will tell you that he’s clearly been putting his acting skill to use in the short film Periods wherein he and some other fun actors “explain the universe in a nutshell.”

“There’s your proof right there,” you may say, but how wrong you are. This “trailer” is merely a beard for Penn’s true whereabouts — which has been right under our noses this entire time.

The final episode of Gossip Girl aired on December 17, 2012, roughly the same time multiple faceless Twitter accounts including @tbhjuststop and @antijokeapple were popping up. This seemed odd. After a bit more digging, it’s been uncovered that Badgley was filming and then promoting Easy A around the same time several additional Twitter accounts of the same nature came into existence. (Like @50shadesofawkward, for example.)

It was so obvious: the much younger extras in Easy A tipped off Badgley to which he realized that he could reach people and entertain them while remaining anonymous.

Sounds kind of familiar, right? As in, Gossip Girl. Dan turned out to be the secret gossip blogger, and here we have Penn turning out to be a secret tweeter. Ah, how art imitates life!

“But that’s impossible,” you might cry. “How could one man manage multiple accounts that spew hilarious tweets all day long?”

Simple, though. He flips them. Penn Badgley is a certifiable Twitter-flipper, creating and building accounts until they have solid enough followings. Then he sells them to the new, younger generation of Gossip Girl fans who watch the show in bulk via Netflix. This is why so many of those accounts say things like, “I have a lot of homework tonight.”

As for why he was at Girls? Hello. He does their social media too.

– Journalistic investigation by Leandra Sherlock Medine and Amelia Nancy Drew Diamond

Images via Instagram, Zimbio, Just Jared, Gotham Magazine, Startraks Photo, The Daily Mail UK & Getty Images.